


dead is the new alive

by callunavulgari



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is turning thirty-two the year that he sees his dead sister again—old for a demigod, older still for a child of the Big Three, but young for the boy who didn't expect to ever see her again at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dead is the new alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antistar_e (kaikamahine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaikamahine/gifts).



> Started back in August for a kissing meme. Elizabeth asked for any pairing and eyelid kisses. So. This happened. Also, there is implied past Percy/Nico/Annabeth and future Percy/Nico/Bianca, but it can easily be read as just brotherly/sisterly love, not incest.

He is turning thirty two the year that he sees his dead sister again—old for a demigod, older still for a child of the Big Three, but young for the boy who didn't expect to ever see her again at all. She doesn't look much like the Bianca he remembers, gone is the long dark hair and the features that mirror his own. In this life, her hair is dyed a bright, eye-searing orange, her skin a dusky hue that makes him think of shadows hiding from the sunset. She doesn't look much like his sister at all, but he stops when he sees her, Percy stumbling to a halt next to him, giving him a confused look.  
  
They've come a long way in the last twenty something years, so Percy doesn't even need to say anything, just searches his eyes and then follows his pained gaze. He sucks in a breath, this thin, almost reedy sound that doesn't suit him at all.  
  
"Lucille," he hears, and as they watch, another teenager bounds over to join his sister, nuzzling their cheeks together and grinning when Bianca—Lucille, whatever—protests.  
  
"Some creepers are staring at you," the newcomer whispers loudly, and Lucille startles. She probably thinks she's being subtle, the way that she starts searching the crowd, but she really isn't. Or maybe being a halfblood has made Nico snobbish, too used to secrecy.  
  
"We should probably go, Nico," Percy whispers, setting a hand on Nico's shoulder. It's warm—that hand that's kept Nico grounded a hundred times over, but he shakes it off easily when Lucille's eyes finally find his. They widen, and he thinks that these are the only parts of Bianca that stayed, because those are his sister's eyes—his eyes—and they're watching him with surprise and _recognition._  
  
They meet each other halfway, drawn to each other the same way that Nico's drawn to graveyards and sad, old ghosts, and Lucille is the one to throw her arms around him. Distantly, Nico registers Percy calling his name and her friend yelling hers, both of them startled, but he can't care about that, not right now, because after two decades, Bianca's finally back in his arms.  
  
"I found you," she breathes into his neck. He laughs, helpless, and squeezes her tighter—his callused, aged hands mapping out her ribcage and spine.  
  
"I missed you," he whispers, eyes wet. She pulls back, pushing their foreheads together and kissing the tears from his eyes, her lips cool against his eyelids.  
  
"I missed you too," she sighs.  
  
He doesn't think about why her memories of him are still intact, when getting reborn is supposed to mean wiping the slate clean, or how anything is going to work out. He's thirty two years old and lives in an apartment with Percy back in New York, hundreds of miles from this middle of nowhere town, and she's an eighteen year old mortal with her own life and her own new family. She doesn't need him.  
  
"No, but I want you," she whispers, like she knows what he's thinking. She presses a kiss to his temple and then another, brief and chaste, against his lips.  
  
"Nico?" he hears Percy say, warily approaching them both.  
  
"Percy's non-negotiable," he tells her quietly, because after all these years, everything they've been through together—losing Annabeth, losing Hazel, losing Percy's _kid_ —Nico's earned the right to keep Percy Jackson. Percy's his, surely as Annabeth once was, surely as Hazel and Bianca was, and he won't sacrifice Percy, not even to keep his sister.  
  
She laughs, dragging her nails across his scalp and inspecting the few grey hairs that she finds among the black. "I wouldn't ask that of you."  
  
"Nico," Percy says again, and this time, he's right behind them, warmth and nervousness bleeding off of him. Nico turns, Bianca—Lucille's hand clutched in his own.  
  
"Percy," is all he needs to say. Percy looks between them, lingering on their faces and their linked hands, and nods once, his eyes softening.  
  
Beside him, his sister shifts her weight in a way that's completely foreign to him, nothing like she used to, and reaches across to shake Percy's hand. "You've gotten old, Percy Jackson," she says, grinning. "I see you've taken care of my little brother."  
  
He nods, solemnly. "It took me a while, but I kept my promise, Bianca."  
  
She shakes her head, still grinning. "It's Lucille, this time around, actually. But it is nice to meet you again."


End file.
